December 30, 2004

How to help the tsunami victims

""Search and rescue teams have left from Los Angeles and from Fairfax County, Virginia, to assist in rescue efforts," said [Secretary of State] Powell. "We're beefing up our disaster relief teams in the region, making assessment. We're also reaching out to fellow Americans to make a contribution. Americans are a very generous people and we hope they will go to our website, www.state.gov or www.usaid.gov and from there they can learn about agencies that are collecting money that will be used for the relief effort."

We quibble, and bicker and complain. We're allowed to quibble, bicker and complain and so we shouldn't feel guilty about doing so. We should, however, try to pay just a little bit of attention to what's going on outside our private little worlds. If we do we'll be better for it, and better able to help others when the time comes.

[Follow up: I can tell you from having just checked out the two sites referred to above that the USAID site is more helpful and provides information on making donations. The other site primarily provides information about the US response to the crisis.]

December 23, 2004

A Festivus for the rest of us.

You should really keep those more fortunate in mind and send them an airing of your grievances today (December 23rd) as it is Festivus. This site has a helpful e-card for just that purpose.

For the unintiated, Festivus is a un-holiday created by the father of one of the writers of Seinfeld. God help him he now works on "Listen Up." Anyway, this New York Times article about the Seinfeld episode introducing Festivus is well worth reading.

"Problem is, you see, when it's time for people hurl criticism at their leaders, they have to hurl it at the leaders they've got. And, you're the leader we've got, so..."

December 22, 2004

Miss(placed) Plastic Surgery

Dateline: Sat Dec 18, 2054 7:52 PM ET

BEIJING

In a fitting bit of irony, A 72-year-old former-student who has had cosmetic surgery on her eyelids and cheeks more than thirty-two times in the past fifty years was crowned the winner Saturday of China's fiftieth pageant for such "manmade beauties." This is the third time that Feng Qian has won the award. Her second time as a woman.

Feng Qian received a $600,000 country club membership after being picked from among 20 finalists, who ranged in age from 18 to 162. Qian's domination of the competition, three first place wins and 6 second place wins in a fifty-year span, is due in large part to the ceaseless efforts of teams of plastic surgeons who respond to her every beck and call. Breast enlargement, reduction and replacement was performed during the competition for the very first time, allowing Qian to wear the exact same swim suit she wore in 2004 during the first competition.

Said Qian, "I'm almost perfect. Soon, someone must love me for my inner self which has finally been demonstrated by my outward, man-made beauty."

"I'll take spelling mistakes for $1000, Alex"

December 17, 2004

"Dubya: The Movie"

A biopic of a sitting president is a challenge for the simple reason that the president isn't yet done creating his (or, eventually, her) story. The producers of "Dubya" recognized what others didn't: our current president has already created more history than you could fit in a steamer trunk. So, with an eye toward capturing his past and enough of his present to reveal character they moved forward.

The brilliant casting of Don Knotts in the lead role won't surprise many. Knotts' ability to subtley capture the essence of his characters is reknowned. What is surprising is that he so perfectly captures a person who is so in the public eye that the audience has no questions about what would constitute a valid performance. Knotts so perfectly renders George W. Bush that one would swear that archival footage of the real president had been used. The producers assured the critics at the early showing that this had been debated, a la "Tuskeegee Airmen" but it was decided, due to heart-felt lobbying by Mr. Knotts, to not use archival footage but recreate some of his more famous moments.

With breath-taking sincerity and certainty the film-makers have provided an accurate and moving portrayal of a president's movements through adolesence, into maturity, and back again. Mr. Knotts' tour-de-force performance lends some moments such emotional weight that you marvel that these tests of courage were as recent as two, three or four years ago. Furthermore, he lends such strength to the president in his portrayal that our estimation of the real president will certainly benefit from this film, making him seem more inevitable and needed than he did before its screening.

Highly Recommended.

(Dubya: The Movie; unrated at time of review, mild nudity and sexual situations, violence, drinking, binging, and unnecessary invasion of sovreign nations.)

December 16, 2004

Living in the lap of luxer-... uh, wait.

Dear Diary,

I've been so lonely. You know. Who but you would? But all that's changed thanks to this afternoon's purchase. Ha. I used the word "purchase." Is finding your soul-mate a "purchase?" Is connecting on an emotional, spiritual and--okay, I'll just say it--PHYSICAL level a "purchase?" Absolutely not.

December 14, 2004

Madame Tussauds's going to hell?

December 13, 2004

I, Steroid

Barry Bonds angrily swung his bat into the gates at SBC Park. The wood splintered and shards of the bat sprayed back at him. The pieces littered the ground at his feet. He raised his fists into the air and let out another inhuman howl. It reached out through the fog, echoed along the streets of San Francisco, and just barely reached the ears of Cecil Roethke, who at that moment was stretched out on the roof of a stolen ice cream truck. The smiling ice cream cone on its roof was all that stood between him and Bonds. That, and about one mile.

Inside the truck Fatty, one of the members of Roethke's elite of the super-secret-elite team, drummed his fingers on the dashboard. "Umm-- Boss? You sure he can't see us?"

Roethke stared through his binoculars--cheap, plastic Spongebob Squarepants binos he'd stolen from a drugstore just before stealing the ice cream and the truck it rode in on. "For the last time, he CAN see us. He's got telescopic vision."

"Then why..."

"Because the fog is jamming his sensors, and because he hasn't turned around." As Roethke watched, Bonds pulled another bat from the back of the U-Haul he'd arrived in. It was loaded to the gills with Louisville Sluggers. For half an hour he'd done just this: pull a bat out, stare at the gate of the ballpark, then club at it while the bat turned to splinters and covered the ground at his feet. Another howl erupted, this one broken by sobs.

Fatty pulled another Rocket Pop from the freezer and shuddered as he opened it. "It sounds like he's crying," he shouted to his rooftop boss.

"It is."

"He cries?"

"Not real tears, just a simulation. It was designed that way in case it ever won a World Series." Like that was ever going to happen without better all around pitching, Rothke thought. And those "In the Know" and "In Charge" "INSIDE THE BELTWAY" would never let that happen.

Bonds' newest bat splintered, just like the eighteen others before it. Rothke pushed his soggy paper ice cream vendor's cap back from his forehead. Wearing a replica of an ice cream man's uniform was a bad idea for two reasons: first, it wasn't 1954, which the uni was spot on for; and second, the paper hat was soaking up the humidity of the fog like a sponge. It was like having a wad of paper mache stuck to his head, like a second grader's art class interpretation of a yarmulke..

Fatty climbed up on the roof, Rocket Pop in mouth. Despite his concerns at being seen he thundered out footsteps on the roof and was wearing a bright orange "Syracuse Orangemen" shirt. He looked like their large, round mascot. At least he sort of looked like an oversized 10-year-old, Rothke thought, with all that ice cream around his mouth. At least that went with the ice cream truck theme.

"What set him off?" Fatty asked. Another howl rolled toward them.

"Giambi's steroid abuse testimony. Sheffield's comments. His own grand jury testimony. It's implication in the steroid scandal. All the speculation that he's been 'juicing.'" Roethke had been waiting for more opportunities to use the term "juicing" for days. This was his first chance and he'd taken it. He smiled. "It doesn't like being thought of as a cheater."

"But how... I mean, come on. Since when does a robot care--" Fatty stopped. He performed what might be an illegal act in the southern US on his Rocket Pop, then pulled it out of his mouth. "Wait, he... He doesn't know he's a robot?"

Roethke laughed. "Why would it? It knows one thing: how to play baseball. That's all it has ever known. And knowing only that, every experience, every urge, every connection it makes to others is through baseball. It will do whatever it takes to be the best. This steroid speculation is hurting that. So it's flipped out. We're here to turn it off until it can be repaired."

"Sounds like those Balco roboticists made him too human."

"What do you mean?" Roethke was amazed that Fatty continued to refer to it as "he."

"The drive to play a game, everything being squeezed through that urge. Isn't that exactly what made Giambi and the others use steroids in the first place. Nothing mattered but winning."

Roethke was about to say that Fatty was a wiser man than he looked when he glanced over his shoulder at Fatty. He was reading what he'd just said off his popsicle stick. Roethke grabbed it to check the font. "Crap! The NBA is onto us. We've got to move now!"

The two men with super-duper top secret clearance jumped to the ground and re-entered the truck. Fatty threw their giant butterfly net out the back and then turned to help Roethke remove the still frozen body of cryo-frozen Barry Bonds from the truck's freezer. He glistened under the street lights in his icy chamber, his black spandex workout suit as new as the day Roethke had helped to kidnap him from the Pirates.

"Will he remember anything?" Fatty asked.

Roethke nodded. "It's all implanted memories of the last seven years."

"Where's he been all this time."

Roethke lifted one end, and Fatty got the feet. As they ran up the street toward the ballpark, trying to stay out of the robot's line of site, Roethke said, "In Balco's cloning facilities. That Iraq thing ain't gonna fight itself."

Read more of the adventures of Cecil Roethke and his Insiders Team here.

What if they'd turned "Independence Day" into a movie?

"No, I'm good... Tom, what I'd like to do is make Independence Day, but not have it suck."

"Uh-huh... uh-huh..."

"I mean, man... did that film suck or was it just me? I'm thinking of that scene where everybody comes out on their front lawn, during the middle of the day, and looks at the ships... you know they're right there and everybody just stares..."

"Uh-huh... Uh-huh..."

"Well... I'm thinking that sucked for a couple of reasons... It lacked any tension or mystery, or ... ummm..."

December 10, 2004

Now playing

Press Release for immediate release:

Traffic Games of Scotland

Traffic Games is proud to announce its upcoming titles for late 2004 and early 2005. As usual, Traffic is ahead of the pack in bringing you jaw dropping graphics, stunning play, and intellectual, thought provoking settings. First up, assassinate a US president in "JFK: Reloaded".

Now you get to be a part of history, and learn a bit about it at the same time. Will John F. Kennedy's brains hit Jackie's dress in the right way? Will John John be making that heartbreaking salute? Can all of a nation's mourning have been caused by just a single shooter? You'll prove it can when you pull the trigger. Try to recreate the malice in Dallas in alternate weather settings. Bet you can't make LBJ president during a hurricane!

Murder and Mayhem more your style? Then go down the slippery slide into madness in true family style in "Helter Skelter: Manson Family Reunion." With authentic Beatles soundtrack humming in your head you'll be charged with orchastrating a raid on unsuspecting innocents. Best not touch any weapons yourself though! Do you have the charisma to enlist a bunch of sychophants into doing your bidding for you? Can you carve a swastika into your head without getting it backwards? Is there any time left for getting together with Brian Wilson for another song writing session? Betcha can't kill just one!

And if you can't... who wants to be Hitler?! Find out in Traffic Games's mid-2005 release!